


Heathens

by TiffsRevenge



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, GTA AU, fem!Jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:09:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiffsRevenge/pseuds/TiffsRevenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>.. Gavin Free - the gold man, enjoys money and has ridiculous spending habits, claims to speak English when he actually just speaks gibberish.<br/>.. Michael Jones - the explosives ‘expert’, hot headed, has a weird dynamic with Free, is usually the one seen mowing people down with a mini gun<br/>.. Jeremy Dooley - the new kid on the block, athletic, good shot, enjoys making fake websites with stupid names and taunting police on social media.</p><p>Could Meg’s day get any worse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heathens

**Author's Note:**

> Just the first chapter of something new I'm working on, hopefully getting back in to the swing of writing so let me know what you think

I'd always been taught to fight, to hold a gun, to know when to attack and when to run. I always been told that one day my life could depend on me pulling the trigger.

Who knew I’d be covered in my friend’s blood when that day came.

\- - - - - - -

Los Santos, the city where the rich were the richest and the poor robbed from them without them ever noticing. It was usually bright out, the coastal areas a swarm with tourists that braved the rumours of knife filled alleys and purses held at gunpoint it was prime picking location for all types of criminals with the bigger groups hitting stores as they brought in more cash and lowlife pickpockets scoured the pier and beaches just looking to make enough for a quick bag of their favourite addiction or the rare bite of real food.

Meg Turney was one of those lowlifes, enjoying the sun as she searched for her next lot, a man on his own was always the best bet but a lads holiday she could also deal with (a current record of eight guys, all robbed blind without being spotted) sea air swept her from her shoulder flicking it out a blue waves behind her as she scanned the wooden pier from behind her sunglasses.

Most people here were families or couples enjoying the summer sun and scrambling to get on the rickitey rides or capture that perfect Instagram photo that three friends and your mom would like even though she’d begged you for weeks not to go to Los Santos because of its uncontrollable crime rate but they’d never listen, the sun was hot, the beer was acceptable enough, and the girls… well the corner girls weren’t exactly expensive.

Meg was about to give up on the pier and move to the closest bar when she spotted her next target. Male, wild hair that the wind blew in every direction, kinda gangaly but still cute with a pair of gold rimmed aviators pinching at the bridge of his slightly large nose, he was making his way away from another group of lads backing out of the crowd and wandering toward the change tills with his wallet stuffed in his back pocket.

‘ _Perfect_ ,’ Meg thought, surely anyone stupid enough to wear gold aviators in Los Santos had the cash to match, or at least some gold cards that could be easily swiped and spent. Following the man up the pier Meg readied herself she needed to be be quick, but also make sure she could pass off the bump as a simple mistake in case she got caught but luckily for her the pier was busy enough that she could she him bumping in to a couple people every few steps so she picked up her pace, eyes glued to the leather lip as it teased her from the man’s back pocket. Just before she reached him she stumbled, using a passing family for cover as she grabbed the wallet and pushed it in to the back of her shorts just in time for the guy to catch her.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, sandals aren’t really made for busy piers,” she joked gesturing to the strappy white fabric wrapped around her feet.

“No not really, you okay though love? Shouldn’t really be walking about Los Santos on your own,” the guy said the british accent surprising Meg almost as much as the genuine concern in his voice.

“Oh no I’ll be fine, my boyfriends just on the coaster with his brother so I said I’d go grab us a couple ice creams,” she lied, pointing to just off the pier where a ice cream vendor was making a killing from children demanding the icy treat. The brit followed her gesture and gave a small nod, releasing her arm slowly.

“Alright well be careful, never know what types could be around here,” Meg couldn’t help but blush at the slight wink he ended with before she said bye and disappeared in to the crowd, pulling the wallet from her shorts and speeding toward the closest rest room which was just off the pier so she could look through her winnings and see what she was working with for the next few days, her actual findings just left her confused.

She’d barely made it back out of the loos before an arm looped around her shoulder and steered her down to beneath the pier. She recognised it as the brit, good she had a couple questions for him… like why this wasn’t his wallet that she’d nicked, she quickly regretted how easily she’d allowed herself to be led when she spotted two other figures waiting beneath the pier as she was pushed up against one of the slowly rotting struts.

“So mind giving me my wallet back?” the brit started holding out hand.

“Your wallet! No way, this isn’t even yours,” Meg retorted flicking the drivers license at the Brit’s chest. The wallet actually belonged to a fifty-nine-year-old guy, George Keely, with thinning white hair and enough wrinkles that you could barely see the old guy’s eyes.

“Okay so maybe I pickpocketed it first but its still mine,” the Brit huffed pushing his hand further in to Meg’s personal space. Meg stepped back as much as she could, shoving hand away before taking a couple steps toward him.

“Well tough, you got played, maybe don’t keep your winnings in your back pockets leads people on,” she stabbed staring up at him.

“Shes got you there dude,” one of the guys from behind the Brit chuckled, both Meg and the Brit turned to glare at him then, although Meg also took his appearance in to account for later so she knew if she every saw him again. He was average his wavy hair that was slowly going curly with a decent build that stretched the arms and shoulders of his shirt slightly but a baby face led Meg to believe he was probably the youngest of the three. In comparison the other guy was short with a short crop of green hair that made him look like some sort of minecraft block, but a trimmed beard made him look older along with the stocky build and strong jaw, Meg couldn’t help but wonder how these three had met.

“Not helping Michael,” the Brit huffed, his accent slightly butchering the name and turning it more in to _Michool_.

“Oh give the woman a break Gav, it’s not like you needed the money from that wallet,” the shorter one argued (Meg didn’t need it either, she just enjoyed the thrill) but the comment made Meg think that they must have been part of something bigger rather than just some small trio gang picking on the tourist trade.

The Brit, Gav, whined slightly before stepping back with a muffled fine scuffing his converse against the sand as Meg straightened up her shirt and turned away, walking back up the beach and grabbing the nearest taxi enjoying the yells of strangers as the taxi pulled away.

Meg looked out the window as the taxi drove toward the centre of the city. She didn’t have many friends but the ones that she did have would probably know who these guys were if they were anyone big. She wasn’t a big criminal; the biggest bounty on her head was petty cash in comparison to some of the larger groups in the city like The Roosters, Fake Haus, and the Twitchers who had tendrils far and wide throughout the city and connections with each other that may them formidable fowes to the LSPD and at points even SWAT and army. At times it was actually quiet amazing to watch the kind of artillery and skill the larger groups came out with especially when Meg was sat watching the carnage from a roof top with a simple set of pistols strapped to her waist.

At this time downtown was nothing but fancy suits and heels, the noises of busy feet and tiresome professional conversations mixed with the seemingly never-ending rattle of engines and blaring horns that took the place of yelled curses on the packed road. Meg jumped out of the taxi, paying her way with George Keely’s money, and strode up the steps toward the glass doors of the large office block ringing the silver buzzer.

“Ms. Pattill’s office how can I help you?” came a clean voice through the speaker.

“Afternoon Stephie, is she or Jinx in?” Meg greeted lowering her sunglasses to look at the small security camera that sat in the top right corner of the door.

“Of course, come on up Miss Doru,” Stephie said a sharp buzz coming from the door as it was unlocked, allowing Meg to step in to the air conditioned lobby. A young man, stepped out of the elevator bowing slightly with a smile on his lips.

“Right this way Miss Doru,” he welcomed gesturing in to the bright, wood and mirror elevator before following her in and typing the code in to the pad before pressing for the penthouse suite that also doubled as the large head quarters of Ms Jackie Pattill, one of the city leading professionals when it came to organised crime.

Jack Pattillo, as she was correctly titled, was a woman at the top of her game and had held that places for long enough that people didn’t dare guess her age, she knew every one and everything that went on in Los Santos. Information of every drug deal, bank robbery, drunk mugging, and everything came straight back to her and the small team she entrusted. She knew every face, name, alias, and price of every criminal in the city no matter their status on the criminal ladder.

‘ _ **Every Pawn Can Be As Important As The King**_ ’ the saying that embellished the wall above her front desk was one that was quoted often within her circle. The bulk of her views though were that every person played a part in the maintainance of this beast, the city wouldn’t run or be what it was without the criminals, or the police, or the tourists, or the rich folk that looked at you like a piece of shit beneath their shoes.

Everyone had to play their part in this city, and sometimes that meant you had to pave the way for someone else.

Greeting the receptionist Meg wandered through the head quarters, the tap of computer keys and shuffling of papers filling her ears besides the swish and click of metal as guns were cleaned and loaded. Stopping by the fair sized kitchen Meg grabbed two cups of coffee, from the maker that was always kept fresh by the hands that were never seen and never heard, taking them through to one of the computer suits where she knew Jinx would be.

Jinx, or Ashley as she was known by those closest, was an old friend to say the least, the two had fooled around a bit during their ‘college’ days but inevitably separated due to the high intensity of their work, even so they remained good friends and co-workers which came in handy when Meg needed some information found on a trio of douche bags. Ashley had a way of finding out information from nothing but the bones of detail, she could find anyone or anything and give you every detail about them or it within the hour or she’d give you the information for free (of course she was greatly helped by Pattillo’s computing systems being able to get past every firewall and security measure). Meg knew she was right person to talk to before she went to Jack.

“Afternoon Ash, whats today’s detail?” Meg asked placing the two mugs on the desk and plopping in to the vacant seat beside Ashley who yanked of her earphones at the site if coffee.

“Huh? Oh just some basic bounty work, checking out the new figures and that, why you got something more interesting for me?” Ashley enquired taking small sips of the coffee as she looked at Meg with wide eyes, excitement sparkling in their depths.

“Maybe, I need you to find some people for me, but not go much to go on,” Meg said with a shrug.

“Lay it on me,” Ashley smiled, putting the half empty mug back down and turning back to her computer, a notes page already opened up and ready.

“Okay so I ran in to a trio today at the pier, thinking maybe part of a big-ish team, a brit named Gav guessing Gavin, a curly hair fuck from the east coast by the name of Michael and another guys short, dark hair but with a stupid top of green, guessing he’s also east coast from the accent but all three we pretty butchered don’t think they’ve been home in a while,” Meg listed off, thinking back over her quick interaction with the three guys.

“Fuck you weren’t kidding, not much to go on,” Ashley thought for a second, running through the already memorised database of criminal groups in her head, “want to give me some appearances and I’ll see if I can narrow it down,” Ashley asked turning her attention back to the computer screen as Meg began listing through the men one by one.

It had been almost fifteen minutes of ruthless searching when Jack popped her head in to the computer suit spotting the crop of Meg’s blue hair.

“Ahh Meg, Stephie said you were in, want to come my office, might have a job for you,” she called quickly, barely giving Meg time to answer before she was disappearing again; called away to organise something else as always.

Meg bid Ashley a quick bye before walking the short distance to Jack’s office taking the now empty coffee cups with her and dumping them in the kitchen sink. She was stood in Jack’s office looking over the mauled map of Los Santos when Jack came in carry several thick folders.

“Re-familiarising yourself with the territories?” Jack half joked, glancing at the map that filled over half of her back wall, the light of the late afternoon sun bouncing of the various pins and staples.

The map had once been just a simple, if very detailed, map of Los Santos and a few of the surrounding islands but now it was marred and scarped with multitudes of colour and symbols each one a different gang territory with everything down to their grey areas mapped out. ‘The Grey Area’ was a term coined by the overlapping of territory, it was more prominent in the worlds of the big dogs where boundaries were moved and altered on an hourly basis so much so that certain numbers of blocks were just best kept grey for the ease of Jack’s business, these were the areas where fights broke out the most, the more dangerous ones where some clever idiot brings a mini-gun to a fist fight and ends up with a lot more police attention than was ever necessary.

Meg spared one last look at the map before turning to Jack’s desk sitting down the comfortable seats facing her,

“I was just wondering how contracts like me survive in this place,” she mumbled her eyes grazing over the folders sprawled across Jack’s desk while she finished stapling the new contract she hoped Meg would take.

“Its because people like you and me are adaptable we pick sides based on who offers the best deal,” Jack smiled pushing her ginger hair behind her ear as she turned back to Meg and handed over the wad of paper that held every detail of the most recent offer, “so the latest job on the board, the head of Fake AH is looking for a new hire, someone well trained in all aspects of combat, language, bargaining, slight of hand etcetera, of course read at your own pace.”

As was usual Jack gave Meg plenty of time to read over the contract ensuring that no detail was missed. She did this with every employee, making sure that it wasn’t just the price figure her workers were focused on because that was always a sure way to get yourself killed whether it was by a rival crew, or sometimes the ones that had hired you.

“Jack you have to be joking, this is a baby-sitting job,” Meg scoffed letting the contract fall ungracefully on to the desk.

“Its not so much baby-sitting as it is a training decal for a very important child, Ramsey is sure to pay highly for his child getting nothing but the best from the best. He has said however that availability at short notice may be required as sometimes more capable hands are needed for jobs, you’re looking to make a serious name for yourself if you take this, a lot of connections might open up to you,” Jack explained, she knew that if Meg didn’t want the job there was no way she was going to take it no matter the figure offered, but connections you couldn’t put a price on everyone needed connections in this city otherwise you wouldn’t survive.

“But The Fake AH Crew? They such a bunch of loud-mouthed, uncontrollable, arseholes,” Meg whined, falling back in her chair. Jack sighed, she wasn’t wrong.

While The Fake AH Crew were one of the biggest teams in Los Santos they were also one of the most reckless and wanted by pretty much everyone. They loved the limelight and always blew things out of proportion, sometimes quite literally if their hot headed explosives expert or Vagabond had anything to do with it, parts of the west side were still recovering from their last job where three fire trucks hand been blown up in a petrol station. But when all was said and done they were a very close knit group that came back for one another time-and-time-again, the idea of ‘no man left behind’ was definitely something they seemed to hold close to their chests and like Jack they’d been in the crime business a long time so they were obviously doing something right.

“Look I’ll understand if you don’t want to take it, but if it’ll make the decision slightly easier these are each of their files, everything that is known about them across every database in the world,” Jack suggested, gesturing to the folders in front of her. Meg chewed her lips, glancing between Jack and the brown covered folders, each marked with the crew’s symbol. A giant fucking green star in a circle.

With a sigh she leant up and pulled one down, it was one of the thinnest out of the five so she didn’t expect much from it, she definitely didn’t expect to open it and come face to face with that stupid grin and stupid large nose and stupid flopping blond-brown hair, even more so when Ashley stepped in to the office proudly to announce that all three of the guys she’d encountered today worked for Fake AH.

Gavin Free - the gold man, enjoys money and has ridiculous spending habits, claims to speak English when he actually just speaks gibberish.  
Michael Jones - the explosives ‘expert’, hot headed, has a weird dynamic with Free, is usually the one seen mowing people down with a mini gun  
Jeremy Dooley - the new kid on the block, athletic, good shot, enjoys making fake websites with stupid names and taunting police on social media.

Could Meg’s day get any worse?


End file.
